


What to Expect When You're Not Expecting

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Family, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kink meme prompt here: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/9730.html?thread=39355906#t39355906</p><p>On yet another trip down into the Deep Roads, Hawke and Anders stumble across the slumbering Old God Razikale. When an accident awakens him, and a strange magic turns him into a child, what other choice do they have but to raise him as their own?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I fully admit Slice of Life is not my thing. I enjoyed playing with this prompt but quickly lost the thread of where to go with it, and did not feel like (yet again) retelling the events of Dragon Age 2 with a +1. This is going to be a rather short, hopefully very, very sweet story. ^_^

"Did you ever think about joining the Grey Wardens?" Anders asked, tripping on a bit of rock, the hem of his coat catching on another outcropping. "They'd be happy to satisfy the inexplicable need you have to visit the Deep Roads every few years."

Hawke gritted his teeth but kept quiet. Anders had a point of course. First it was the expedition that could have gone better. He invited Anders to come along, citing his need for someone who could heal. In reality, he had simply wanted to keep Anders close to him, his feelings for the other mage complicated and growing more so every day. Even though Anders turned him down initially, Hawke couldn't shake his attraction. Three years it took, and finally Anders was his. Having him move in immediately, living with him now for the last six months, it had been little less than absolute bliss, despite the frustrations the city caused.

And did Kirkwall ever cause a lot of frustrations. He still recalled the day Carver visited him in the estate, full templar gear and all. It took everything in Hawke's power to restrain himself, to remind himself that Carver was his brother, the only family he really had left unless one counted Gamlen, and he really didn't. After Leandra's death, they hardly spoke, after all. But Carver came bearing grave news. The Carta had somehow infiltrated the Gallows. Hawke admitted they'd gotten into the estate. Of course they were met by a savage mabari and two fully-fledged and capable mages so they didn't get very far, but the idea that the Carta was after them was unsettling. So Hawke had gone to investigate. That was the second time.

Anders was adamant he'd come with. He didn't like the idea of someone going after his lover. Hawke had been pleasantly surprised, figuring Anders would want to stay with his clinic or work more with the mage underground. But then, Anders was always surprising him in that way, showing up in the evenings when Hawke believed he'd be out all night, or waking him tenderly and spending the morning making love to him. They both had important things in their lives, but neither wanted for love or affection from the other. It was why moments like these when Anders was beyond irritated either with him or the situation, that Hawke kept his cool.

Of course, it was mostly his fault that Anders was so annoyed. He'd begged him this time to come with him this time. While Hawke was sure Carver wouldn't turn Anders in, Hawke had a sneaking suspicion one of the reasons the templars were kept at bay was because his own name held a lot of weight, especially with the viscount's office. Rumors abound that the son of the late Leandra Amell was a mage and kept company with other apostates, his lover being one. Anders insisted they be discreet, but Hawke didn't care, and would happily walk through Hightown with him, holding his hand or his arm, engaging in mild public displays of affection.

_"Let them have a scandal," Hawke said._

His mother had happily run off with an apostate, had declared that love was more important than anything. Hawke held with those views as well. He didn't care who knew he was with Anders and would have shouted it from the rooftops. But the flipside to that was keeping Anders safe, keeping him close. And though Anders was capable of taking care of himself, Hawke wasn't sure he could fully trust his brother not to turn Anders in should Hawke choose to go off by himself for a few weeks. And this trip down to the Deep Roads, following the same path he'd had traveled nearly four years ago was no exception.

"It's not even your fault," Anders was saying. "I know you feel an obligation to these dwarves because they were following your route. But you can't be held responsible for the actions of people you've never met all because they decided they want to – Maker's breath!"

He'd tripped again, this time almost falling down the steep decline. Fenris, who'd remained silent through most of their trip down, reached out quickly and grabbed his arm, steadying him. He let go almost as quickly once it was clear Anders had his footing.

Anders frowned. "Thanks," he managed begrudgingly.

Fenris merely nodded and Hawke was at least glad for that. He'd asked Aveline to come, knowing they would want at least one sword between themselves and the darkspawn, but she was unbelievably busy in her role as captain, fielding complaints about the Qunari among other things. Varric, who'd been with Hawke when they fought Corypheus, expressed a desire to never go into the Deep Roads again and stated he'd had his fill of this particular thaig, spending the last few years returning every couple of weeks to pull up the rest of the treasures they'd stumbled across. Merrill had become increasingly preoccupied with a mirror, and Isabela had gone missing, searching once again for her lost relic. Hawke would have asked Sebastian, but thought perhaps it would have been a bit too insulting, inviting both the Chantry Brother _and_ Fenris, both of whom took issues with Anders and his firm pro-mage stance. But again, he needed a blade. As long as they were careful and Anders alerted them to any packs of darkspawn that they could stay away from, they would be fine just the three of them.

"I am sorry," Hawke said quietly as Anders drew level with him, Fenris lagging a bit behind. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you."

Anders scowled. "Love, I was in Kirkwall and on my own long before you came banging at my door demanding maps."

The end of his staff sparked as they hiked the rocky pathway, Hawke remembering the route almost by memory. He wasn't stupid though, said maps were in his pack just in case.

"You could have stayed. You could have said no." Hawke didn't like to argue, didn't like to fight. He especially didn't like to do so in front of others, not that he and Anders fought often, but no relationship was perfect.

"With you practically begging me to come with you? Then I'd be sitting in my clinic feeling horribly guilty and thinking of your puppy dog eyes. Or worse, wondering if you hadn't been eaten by darkspawn or fallen down a ravine."

"I'm capable of taking care of myself as well," Hawke said, somewhat defensively.

Anders gave him a look, followed by a slight rolling of his eyes. "Says the man who thinks breakfast is the leftover chocolate cake."

"In my defense, that was delicious chocolate cake."

"Yes, until you ate three slices then spent the entire evening complaining that your stomach was about to burst. And then had two more slices in the morning."

Hawke grinned. He remembered that night. It was only a week or so after he and Anders made love for the first time and he wanted to celebrate. After running his usual errands, he stopped by a bakery in Hightown and bought the cake for dessert. He remembered licking icing from Anders' fingertips, falling into bed after.

"You've got a dopey look on your face."

The grin widened. "I was just thinking about the night of the cake."

Behind them, Fenris cleared his throat somewhat loudly, reminding them both that he was still there. Hawke ducked his head a bit guiltily while Anders rolled his eyes once more.

"Are you bored, Fenris? Shall we play 'I spy' again?"

"No. You cheat."

"You can't cheat at 'I spy'!"

Hawke interjected. "Actually I think you did cheat. 'Rocks' was one of the first things Fenris guessed and you made him go another ten rounds before he had to give up."

"Just because I've a bad memory doesn't mean I was cheating," Anders insisted. "Are you going to take his side now?"

"Please," Fenris sighed, "your jealousy is unbecoming."

"I've nothing to be jealous of," Anders said, turning to look at him. "I accept Hawke's eccentricities. Maker only knows why he keeps some of the friends he does, but it doesn't bother me any. So long as they don't plan on oh, I don't know. Turning him into the templars for being an apostate."

Fenris gritted his teeth. "I would never turn Hawke in-"

"But you'd turn me in, wouldn't you?" Anders goaded.

"That's enough. Come on," Hawke sighed. "We have at least another day of walking until we get to the thaig, and we'll need our strength to look for the dwarves once we reach it."

"That's _if_ we can find them," Anders said, seemingly pleased for the change of subject. "We could just be chasing ghosts. After all, when we came down here the first time it was with a fully stocked expedition. Varric never descended without at least a dozen men at his back. And we're as prepared as we can be, considering, what with my ability to sense the darkspawn and healing magic. And your proclivity to throw fireballs at anything that moves."

Hawke noticed he did not mention Fenris's skill with a blade or the lyrium markings that made him an exceptional warrior.

"What chance though, do three dwarves have?"

"Well, there's looking on the bright side of things," Hawke muttered.

"I'm just saying," Anders pressed, "that we might not find anything more than a few corpses. And that's if they're lucky. If they're not, they've likely been affected by the taint already, turned into darkspawn themselves."

"Yes, I absolutely understand what you see in him, Hawke," Fenris said somewhat bitterly.

"Were you hoping he'd fall for you instead?" Anders shot back. "Yes, the 'brooding every minute of the day' is certainly very cheerful. I'm sure that turns him right on."

"At least it's not whining about how oppressed mages are-"

"We _are_ ," Anders said acidly.

"And yet Hawke doesn't seem inclined to talk about it nonstop like you do."

Anders stopped, one hand on his hip, the other gripping his staff, and looked at Fenris. "Like you're so different, always _whining_ about how you were a slave. If you'd just stop to listen to other people every now and again, you'd understand that mages here have it no better than the slaves in Tevinter-"

"Do _not_ compare yourself to the slaves of Tevinter, mage. You have no idea-"

"I think I have a pretty damn good idea, considering you never shut up about it!"

"STOP!" Hawke bellowed, sending several insects skittering along the floor and walls. "Maker's breath, don't you two ever stop for just one second? It was somewhat amusing for the first day or two but now it's just impossible. For Andraste's sake, you just never…" He broke off with an anguished cry. "Augh. I'm going to find fresh water."

He stomped off quickly, cupping a fireball in his palm. Not that they really needed fresh water, but he thought he remembered a pool around here somewhere. It would do him some good to dip his head in it and cool off. He heard their voices carrying but couldn't make out what they were saying as he moved further away. In retrospect, he really didn't expect anything different from the two of them, they were constantly at odds. And while he was on Anders' side, in complete agreement that the way mages were treated was absolutely reprehensible, it would take a much gentler, more convincing hand to sway Fenris to their way of thinking.

Unfortunately, Hawke often had other things on his mind than trying to convert others to their way of thinking. The demands of the city, the viscount's numerous requests, the Qunari threat that seemed to be slowly coming to a head. The deaths of refugees and Kirkwallers alike that occurred when that elf woman set the poison. Maker, but she was insane. While he absolutely didn't agree with her methods, he sympathized with why she'd done it. Losing your culture, your pride, it had to be difficult. The Qunari were dangerous, but Hawke knew that if the city had treated their elves better, they wouldn't have felt the need to convert.

He found the pool of clean water, a river made from some enchantment long ago. The first time he'd traveled down here, he marveled at the dwarven culture, Varric explaining how it was possible and Bartrand waxing nostalgic about his time in Orzammar. Kneeling down, he removed his fingerless gloves and refilled his water skin before splashing some on his face and the back of his neck. Feeling much calmer now than he was a few moments ago, he didn't mind the careful footsteps behind him.

"I'm fine," he said.

Anders sighed and dropped next to him. He folded his hands in his lap, playing idly with one of the buckles on his coat. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm used to the two of you fighting by now. And honestly if I hadn't had need of both of you-"

"I can't stay quiet when he talks of mages. I don't understand how you can."

Hawke looked at him, smiling a bit. "Because you say enough for the both of us."

Anders scowled. "I would like some support. He's _your_ friend, after all."

Hawke leaned in and kissed him gently. It seemed to take the edge off, and Anders' expression softened as he leaned against him.

"I don't want it to seem as if we're ganging up on him. He's sure to shut down then. I promise though, I am chipping away little by little," Hawke assured him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

"When you have your reading lessons," Anders said pointedly.

"Please don't be jealous, love."

Anders huffed, but snuggled closer, and Hawke wrapped his arms tightly around him.

"I still think…" Anders started quietly. "I still think that you'll eventually wise up. And decide that your life would be better without me. And you'll find someone else who can give you a normal life."

Hawke kissed the top of his head. "I'm an apostate too, Anders. I think you forget that sometimes. Even though you hold me at arm's length – and I understand," he added quickly as Anders tried to pull away to argue why. "Just know I'll support you no matter what. And," he continued, tilting Anders' chin up so he could look at him, "no matter how hard you try, you're not going to get rid of me that easily."

The corners of Anders' lips curled into a small smile. "Good."

Hawke leaned down to kiss him again, but Fenris clearing his throat behind them interrupted him. Anders glared, but Hawke merely looked up.

"Camp is set for the night. We need a fire, however."

"We'll be there in a minute. Thanks, Fenris," Hawke said, with what he hoped was a friendly smile.

Fenris huffed but turned and left.

Anders frowned. "He did that on purpose."

"It doesn't matter," Hawke said, leaning in again. "I'm still going to kiss you."

And he did, smirking a bit as Anders relaxed in his arms. His lover was always so tense, growing more worried lately, more manic at times. Hawke would catch him muttering to himself as he scratched out a few more pages of his manifesto, and had to keep him from tossing them in the fire. When Anders wasn't looking, Hawke would take the pages up himself and proofread them, changing a word here or there, improving the syntax and spelling. Anders never commented, but Hawke was fairly sure he knew. He seemed more at ease after, and Hawke only wished that they could discuss the underground more. Especially after what happened with Ella. The girl had written him, and Hawke tried to show the letter to Anders, but Anders still blamed himself for what happened, though she hadn't come to harm.

"Mm. We should go set that fire," Hawke said, when the kiss ended.

"If we must."

"Another day's trek and we'll find those dwarves," Hawke said. "And then we never have to come back to the Deep Roads."

"You say that now," Anders said darkly, accepting the hand up as Hawke got to his feet. "But in two or three years, mark my words, Hawke, you'll be knocking on the clinic door with a brilliant plan to head back."

Hawke grinned. "And you'd agree to come, wouldn't you?"

Anders sighed heavily as Hawke took him around the waist. "Yes," he agreed, kissing him quickly. "I would."

Still grinning, Hawke pulled him away from the river and toward camp. Hopefully, he thought, this would be the absolute last of the Deep Roads.


	2. Chapter 2

Family ties counted for less every day, Hawke was learning. He pushed thoughts of the three brothers – two, now – from his mind. It wouldn't do to dwell on what had transpired, and it only made him think of Carver, his brother's decision still angering him years later. He wondered what his father would've thought, what Bethany would have thought. Yes, Carver had to take his own path, had to break out from under Hawke's shadow, but did he have to do it with the largest slap in the face possible? Aveline had blocked his path into the Guard, but there were others, weren't there? After all, Hawke had made a name for himself now as a nobleman of the city. Then again, the thought of Carver idling, looking for a wife, it didn't really suit him, did it? Nor did it suit himself, he thought, as he looked over at Anders.

The dwarves had left earlier that day, Hawke wanting to explore just a bit more to see if they'd left anything behind. He found a few artifacts that were tucked away that looked like they might be worth something. He stuffed them in his pack before they set off again. Debating internally whether or not he should stop by the Merchant's Guild upon return and demand a reward for saving the lives of the two dwarves, Hawke nearly ran into Anders as he stopped short. Hawke frowned, reaching out, and Anders crumpled to the ground.

"Anders?!"

"It's… I can hear it…"

Fenris scowled. "Voices?"

Hawke, kneeling now next to Anders, touched his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked quietly, remembering all too well the troubles Anders had when Corypheus called to him. 

He'd had Varric and Carver with him, his brother knocking a possessed Anders to the ground with the pommel of his sword. Hawke was livid, though as Varric had pointed out, Hawke wasn't going to be the one to hurt Anders. Carver hadn't exactly been gentle, but he hadn't caused Anders any lasting pain. Would Fenris be as courteous? Hawke wanted to think so, but he had to be realistic.

"It's… darkspawn. I think. I feel it, but louder, something calling out. Maker, it's like… it's like water when you're dying of thirst. I have to…" He clutched his head, pressing his palms against his temples, eyes shut. "I can't stop it."

Hawke pulled him close, arms wrapped tightly around him, not knowing what to do. He needed to stay calm and not panic. "Louder than darkspawn? So it's not… is it like… Corypheus?"

Fenris withdrew his sword, holding it at the ready, just in case.

Anders shook his head. "I think… perhaps. I'm not sure. It's this way." He got unsteadily to his feet and started off quickly into one of the side passages.

Hawke scowled and picked up both their packs. "Anders! I really don't think it's a good idea-"

"Is it truly wise to follow the voices in his head?" Fenris asked carefully.

"Not now," Hawke said quickly, though with no real animosity. He simply didn't have time to defend either of them to one another. He took off after Anders, turning two corners before catching up to him and grabbed his arm. "Look, we need you. You can't just-"

Hawke broke off as a warm breeze blew over them. He looked up. And up.

"What in the name of Andraste-" he breathed.

"I think it's…" Anders started.

Fenris stopped behind them. "A dragon."

But not just any dragon. Hawke had fought them. This one was enormous, larger than any high dragon he'd ever heard of in Varric's tales, twice as big. Its scales were snow white, two horns protruding from its head, both the size of a fully grown man in length and girth. They were onyx in color, like the spines that ridged down its back. Two giant wings were folded carefully against its body, a forked tail curled around it, end flicking idly like a perversion of a house cat. Hawke saw its claws, each of them curved and as large as the sword Fenris held at his side. It was sleeping, heaving heavy breaths as it slumbered, the source of the warm breeze.

"We need to turn around," Hawke whispered. "Right now. Quickly."

He loved a fight, hardly ever ran from one, and rarely did he lose. However, this was one fight that he knew he had no chance of winning.

"We should kill it," Anders said at once, fingertips pressed to his forehead.

"Are you insane?" Fenris hissed. "Do you know what this is?"

Anders turned, clutching his staff in both hands now, leaning on it slightly. "Not what you think it is. This is an Old God."

Hawke gaped. It was one thing to come face to face with a fully grown adult dragon, it was something else entirely to come to the realization that this wasn't _just_ a dragon. "An Old God. Like… archdemon Old God?"

Fenris scowled. "Yes. And for your information," he added to Anders, "I _did_ know."

"Would you like a gold star?" Anders asked sarcastically. "If you know what it is then you know we have to kill it before the darkspawn get here and corrupt it. How it lasted out here in the open without them already reaching it…"

"Kill it?" Hawke asked, and swore his voice did not rise in pitch. Nevertheless he cleared his throat. "Anders, no. I think we should go."

Anders whirled on him now. "And then what, Hawke? Let the darkspawn find it? Corrupt it? Do you want to be responsible for another Blight?"

"That's really not fair, Anders," Hawke snapped. "All right, fine. How do you kill an Old God?"

"You don't," Fenris said definitively.

"Maybe… maybe," Anders said, running a hand back over his hair, sighing. "You can phase into it. Burst its heart."

Fenris's eyes went wide. "Maybe you can simply throw a fireball at it and let it melt," he countered.

"Please," Hawke said, "let's not, can we just not do this right now? Maybe if we had more people something could be done. But it's absolutely insane to think that the three of us – talented as we are – could do anything about him right now."

Anders frowned, turning again to look at the dragon. It shifted in its sleep, burying its snout in its paws and slept on. Hawke touched Anders' hand, pleading with him silently. Anders lowered his head, letting out a breath.

"We could stop a Blight, Hawke. And if we killed it…" He winced as the dragon shifted once more, then nearly fell as he stumbled.

Hawke caught him. "His voice?"

Anders nodded. "I can hear it. He wants… he wants me to… I have to…"

"Anders!"

Anders lurched in his arms, staff clattering to the floor. Hawke pulled him back roughly. The dragon stirred.

"It's waking!" Fenris called, stepping back quickly.

"Fenris, help me!" Hawke growled.

But too late, Anders had wrenched himself from Hawke's grasp. Hawke threw himself forward, casting a haste spell on himself to catch Anders before he could reach the dragon. He dove and tackled Anders hard to the ground, Anders clawing to get to the dragon which was perhaps a dozen steps away now. Hawke could feel its hot breath as it huffed. It stirred, scales shifting, and he realized that if it woke now, they would be in the direct path of its fire.

"Anders!" Hawke pleaded. "Anders, stop!"

Anders wrenched himself from Hawke's grip and stood only to be taken down just as quickly again by Fenris, who caught him around the waist and pulled back. They slammed into Hawke who was trying to gain his feet. He tripped, the haste spell still active on him, and was thrown almost comically back to the ground where he rolled, then skidded to a halt against the dragon's paw.

"HAWKE!" Fenris bellowed.

Anders seemed to snap out of his daze at that. "HAWKE!"

Too late, the dragon was waking now. Hawke, bruised and bleeding, scrambled up. A huge paw came down upon him, flattening him to the ground.

"HAWKE!" Anders screamed again.

Fenris grabbed him around the waist once more. "You fool, you're going to get yourself killed!"

"It's got Hawke!"

A brilliant burst of light suddenly filled the cavern, blinding them. Anders threw up a hand while Fenris pulled them both away from it. Crackling energy like lightning bounced off the stone walls, a pinging sound as it hit rock, dropping stalactites. Anders threw out his hand, a magical shield suddenly surrounding the both of them. Rocks the size of halla crumbled from the walls and ceiling. It lasted perhaps only a minute or more, but felt like a lifetime as Anders struggled to maintain the barrier.

Then all went silent.

Anders shoved Fenris off him and immediately turned to look.

The dragon was gone.

The dust settled as he walked through the thick cloud, waving a hand, coughing and choking. Hawke lay conscious but dazed, eyes closed for the moment as he pressed a hand to his head. He sat up, wheezing a little, and clutched his ribs.

"That was fun!"

"Whu-" Hawke managed, and turned around.

"Don't you think that was fun?"

A boy – was it a boy? What child had horns and wings? – stood amidst the rubble, hands on his hips. His long black tunic fell to the floor, brushing the stone.

"Who… are you?" Anders asked, kneeling slowly next to Hawke. He raised a hand carefully, assessing his injuries while keeping one eye on the child.

Fenris approached slowly, sword in hand.

The boy, pale skin, jet black hair and shining silver eyes looked up at Fenris. He smiled toothily at him. "I can smell you from here."

It was such an absurd statement, Anders had to laugh. "Perhaps you ought to bathe more, Fenris."

Fenris scowled.

"Who are you?" Hawke asked, repeating the question. "What… Where did the Old God-"

"Oh. Me!" the boy said, jabbing a thumb into his own chest. "That's me! I'm one of those!"

Hawke looked at Anders, who was gaping now. "Is that… that can't be right," Hawke said. "You're not a dragon."

"He's got wings," Fenris said, somewhat dubiously though.

The boy fluttered his black scaly wings before reaching up to touch his horns, which were much smaller now, perhaps four or five inches in length and white as snow. "I don't think I can fly anymore," he pouted, and flapped his wings harder.

There was a cool breeze and the dust kicked up again, Anders and Hawke turning away and closing their eyes.

"That's… that's sad," the boy said, frowning. His lower lip wibbled.

"Don't cry!" Hawke said quickly. And perhaps it was paternal instinct or just the fact that the child was so… absurdly adorable, but he reached out and touched him on the shoulder.

The boy blinked a few times and looked at him. "It was you!"

"Me?" Hawke asked, pulling back.

But the boy grabbed his hand, laughing. "You! You woke me up! You did! You touched me and stopped the dreams! I remember I had horrible dreams and now I'm awake."

Before anyone could say another word, the boy flung his arms around Hawke's neck, laughing, and hugged him tightly. Hawke winced, one of his ribs still bruised, and awkwardly patted him on the back.

"You must be my father."

"I…"

Anders didn't think his eyes could go any wider as he looked at Hawke, at the small child firmly wrapped around him. "Father?"

The boy turned, grinning widely, and shrugged. "What are you doing down here anyway? And where is here? I don't remember any of this. It's cold. And I'm hungry." He pouted again, and settled himself in Hawke's lap.

"I think perhaps I might be able to shed some light," Fenris said pensively. He'd sheathed his sword, arms crossed. "You said you could smell me."

"Your skin," the boy clarified.

Fenris said in Tevene, _"Do you speak the old language?"_

The boys ears actually perked up, wings flexing. _"I speak it. I know it. It is in my very blood as it is in yours. Are_ you _my father? I thought-"_

"No!" Fenris said, waving his hands. "I most certainly am not."

"Care to enlighten the ones who aren't bilingual?" Hawke said irritably.

Anders smirked. "The boy asked if Fenris was his father."

Hawke looked at him. "I didn't know you spoke Tevinter."

"Tevene," Anders and Fenris said as one.

Fenris scowled. "I wasn't aware you spoke it either, but being a mage I suppose it makes sense. No doubt you learned the language for a better grasp of spell-"

"They teach it in the Circle," Anders snapped. "Or at least that's where I learned it. I also speak Ander and a bit of Orlesian. But I suppose that's because of my love of cheese and fine wine, right?"

"Please," Hawke said tiredly. "Can we get back to… you know. The kid?"

The kid in question was sitting quietly now, playing with one of the buttons on Hawke's robes. He was humming softly to himself.

"He is who he says he is. What he says he is," Fenris said.

"That's insane," Anders replied.

"Do you have any other logical explanation, mage?"

"That's not a logical explanation to begin with!"

"Think about it," Fenris said, crouching, eye-level with the boy now. "The Old Gods call out to those who can hear them. The magisters of Tevinter, darkspawn. Perhaps even other mages, I'm not sure. He was worshipped by them. Listened to them. Each Old God was discovered by darkspawn, corrupted. We know not what they appeared to be before they mutated into archdemons. This is the first time any living soul has seen one before they've been corrupted. Not since the Ancient Imperium."

"But it wasn't a darkspawn this time that found him," Hawke said, shifting the boy a bit in his lap.

The boy yawned widely, stretching his arms, then settled against Hawke's chest, eyes closing.

"You were the first to touch him," Anders mused, thinking. "The Architect-" he paused, frowning, and looked at Hawke.

Hawke understood. Anders never liked speaking about his time in the Wardens. "What is it?"

"He used Grey Warden blood to try to disrupt the Old Gods' hold over the darkspawn. He wanted to make the darkspawn autonomous. To give them minds of their own. He failed."

"Obviously," Fenris grunted.

Anders glared at him. "Maybe… Hawke's blood. It's untainted. You touched him, you were bleeding. So instead of becoming corrupt-"

"Wait a second," Hawke said quickly.

"Uncorrupted mage blood," Fenris said.

"Oh. Lovely. _Now_ you two want to agree on something!" Hawke snarled.

The boy lifted his arm tiredly and covered Hawke's mouth with a small hand. "Shh, Daddy. I'm sleeping now. No more nightmares."

Hawke looked down at him. "But…"

"The only two still alive," Fenris said, "are Razikale and Lusacan."

The boy pressed a hand to his chest, yawning. "Razi."

He stilled in Hawke's arms, and Hawke looked up at Fenris, then to Anders.

"Well," Anders said, eyebrows raised, "it looks like you're a daddy."

Hawke looked back to the sleeping child in his arms and sighed. "I am never coming back to the Deep Roads," he muttered. "Ever again."


	3. Chapter 3

There really hadn't been a debate on whether or not they were taking Razikale with them. Hawke simply stood, gathering the boy in his arms, and they started back through the side tunnel to the main road. Anders shouldered Hawke's pack as well as his own, glancing at the child every so often. Fenris led the way, able to mount a quick defense should they run into any darkspawn or other unsavory creatures.

"I don't get it," Anders said finally.

"What don't you get?" Hawke asked, shifting Razikale in his arms.

"He's an Old God. Well over a thousand years old. Why would he become a child? Why not a wizened old man?"

"I think I might prefer this, actually," Hawke said. "I'm not sure I could carry an old man through the Deep Roads while he slept on me."

"And drooled," Anders noted.

Hawke glanced down. There was a slightly wet patch on his shirt. Strangely, his first instinct was to coo about how cute he was. Perhaps some deeply-buried paternal instinct was starting to emerge. He'd helped his parents raise the twins after all, being nearly a decade older. Razikale looked to be perhaps four or five years old, and Hawke was at least glad that he wouldn't have to change diapers. He hoped. Were Old Gods already potty trained? And even though he was a child in appearance and his speech reflected that, how much did he really know and understand?

"What are you going to do with him once we reach Kirkwall?"

Hawke frowned a bit, thinking. "He called me his father. Obviously he has an… attachment. I could, I suppose…"

Anders let out a sympathetic noise.

"Leaving him with the Chantry is _not_ an option," Hawke declared.

There was nothing else for it. Leaving Razikale in the Deep Roads wasn't even up for discussion. He could drop him at the Chantry, but to what end? To be raised as a Chantry brother? Possibly even made a templar when he came of age? That was to say nothing of his horns and wings. Hawke could likely hide them, keep Razikale away from prying eyes. But handing the boy over to the Chantry would surely mean poking and prodding. Perhaps experimentation. And while Razikale _was_ an Old God, even Hawke knew it wasn't right to subject a child to that.

"I'm glad at least you've got his best interests in mind," Anders said. "What are you thinking?"

Hawke could give him up for adoption. There were several people he could think of that would happily take in a young boy. But again, the wings and the horns made it quite clear that Razikale was no normal child. He was stuck, unless he wanted to compromise his own morals. Could he abandon a young child?

No. He definitely couldn't.

"I think maybe we should talk to a few people… Marethari for one, she might have an idea. Or… or Flemeth."

Anders frowned. "If you could even contact her. She hasn't been in Kirkwall since that day up Sundermount."

"As far as we know," Hawke said. "Who knows where she is now? She can turn into a dragon – maybe she knows something about Razikale. About what we can do. Other than that…" He sighed. "I never thought I'd have kids."

"Nor did I," Anders added. "The Circle takes away any accidental babies."

Hawke looked at him. "You… would want a child, though?"

"I've always thought about it. About having a family. It's not something any Circle mage is afforded. Your father was lucky he got out when he did. To marry, to have children of his own. I know it's not for everyone, but…"

Hawke reached out with his free hand, keeping the other tucked under the sleeping Razikale, and took Anders' arm. Anders looked over at him and they slowed in their steps. Ahead, Fenris slowed as well, stopping at the mouth of another cavern. He turned away to give them their privacy, and Hawke made a note to thank him. He turned to Anders, shifting Razikale in his arms.

"But you've always wanted a family for your own," Hawke said gently.

Anders smiled sadly. "It's nothing I hoped too much for. There's still so much to do, and I'm afraid that my path isn't exactly conducive to raising a child. Nor yours, if you're going to continue being the errand boy of Kirkwall," he said somewhat fondly, reaching up to touch his shoulder.

"Raise him with me," Hawke said.

"What?"

"I'm serious. We could be a family. A real family. We could even marry."

Anders' eyes widened. "Hawke, you don't mean that. You're just looking for solutions. This is another task that's been foisted on you unnecessarily-"

Hawke leaned in and kissed him, careful not to squish the sleeping child. Razikale stirred and woke, pressing at Hawke's chest.

"Stop! I was sleeping," he complained tiredly.

Hawke chuckled. "All right?"

Razikale yawned widely, his teeth a bit pointed, then rubbed his eyes and looked at Anders before holding his arms out to him. Hawke gently handed him over and took their packs.

"Think he likes you," Hawke noted.

Anders held Razikale somewhat awkwardly, lifting his head as the boy nuzzled under his chin and wrapped two small arms around his neck.

"I like the way you smell. Like magic and dreams."

Hawke grinned. "I wonder if he can sense Justice in you. Perhaps he's sensitive to it?"

"I heard you talking," Razikale continued, a bit muffled as his face was pressed into Anders' throat. "You're not going to give me away, are you?" he asked, turning now to look at Hawke, wide-eyed.

If Hawke had been planning to give him away or drop him on the Chantry's doorstep, the almost tearful look in those silver eyes would have changed his mind instantly. "No, of course not. We're going to keep you."

"Promise?"

Hawke reached out and touched his back, below his wings. He was warm, even through the thick robe that covered him. "I promise."

Razikale looked up at Anders. "And you?"

Anders looked at Hawke, who smiled encouragingly at him. He looked back at Razikale. "I promise."

"Anders can be your papa," Hawke suggested.

"Hawke… I… I don't know the first thing about raising a child," Anders said, somewhat uncertainly.

"You're really good with the kids that come into the clinic. I've seen you with them."

"As heartwarming as this is, we should continue on," Fenris said, now approaching.

Razikale reached for him. Fenris took a step back. Anders smirked and stepped forward as Razikale made a grabbing motion with both his tiny hands. His wings fluttered.

"Fenris, that's just rude," Anders quipped, trying not to laugh.

"Someone needs to keep their weapon drawn in case of darkspawn or mutant spiders," Fenris said, sidestepping once more.

Razikale wriggled until Anders put him down. Hawke watched as he skipped idly to Fenris and grabbed his hand in both his smaller ones. Fenris froze, looking down as Razikale swung his arm, grinning up at him.

"If Uncle Fenris needs to fight darkspawn, you need to let him go, all right?" Hawke asked, snickering quietly.

"All right!" Razikale agreed, tugging on Fenris's hand and they all took up the trek once more.

Fenris turned to glare at Hawke, who was trying in vain not to bend double laughing. "I am _not_ his uncle."

"Nor are Anders and myself his fathers, but… well…" Hawke said, handing Anders' pack back to him. "We're the closest thing to family any of us has, aren't we?"

Anders scoffed. "Hardly."

"Family fights," Hawke said pointedly. "Look at me and Carver. You and Fenris just have… ah… strong, differing opinions."

"Oh!" Razikale exclaimed and let go of Fenris's hand, running off quickly.

Hawke followed, hurrying to keep him in sight. Losing the kid down here in the Deep Roads was not something he was looking forward to. "Wait! Razi!"

Razikale stopped short, looked back at him. "I like that nickname!"

"What are you running after?"

Razikale plucked a stone from the floor. "This! I can smell it on Uncle Fenny."

Hawke pursed his lips together and glanced back. Fenris was scowling, Anders looking as if he was about to burst into laughter. Hawke looked back to the stone, frowning as he knelt. Anders came up behind him, pulling him back.

"Don't touch it, Hawke. Lyrium."

"Raw lyrium. We saw enough of it down here the last time," Hawke said.

"Can I keep it? It's shiny!"

"Of course you can," Hawke said at once.

"Hawke!" Anders exclaimed.

Hawke looked up at him. "We can talk about spoiling the boy once we reach the surface, but right now, I don't see anything wrong with letting him have some regular lyrium. It's blue. It's not going to hurt-"

"You don't know that."

"I hate to agree with the mage," Fenris said grudgingly. "We don't know what kind of affect lyrium is going to have on him."

"He's part Old God, part human. I would think that a little lyrium would be fine. Look, we'll take it with us, have Sandal refine it into a potion and he can hang onto that." He looked to Razikale. "Would that be okay?"

Razikale rocked on his heels then to the balls of his feet and back. "I guess," he said, drawing the word out.

Hawke rifled through his pack for a small leather pouch and opened it. "Drop it in and Daddy will carry it for you."

Grinning, Razikale did so, the lyrium stone clinking against some coins.

"Say 'thank you' to Daddy," Anders pressed. "He'll need to learn manners," he added, when Hawke looked up.

"Thank you!" Razikale exclaimed before resuming his hold on Fenris's hand.

"You're welcome. Shall we move on then?" Hawke asked, trying at least for Fenris's sake not to laugh.

"Let's," Anders agreed.

They continued on, Razikale swinging Fenris's arm as they walked. Every so often, Fenris would look back to Hawke, who would give him an encouraging smile. Razikale spoke quickly, asking Fenris what things were, but hardly giving him time to answer.

"What's the name of that? Oh, what's that thing? Is that a mushroom? Why is your hair white but your eyebrows black? Are my eyebrows black? I have black hair and black eyebrows. Right? I don't know a lot about color. What's it like outside the Deep Roads? I've never seen it."

Anders knocked slightly into Hawke, grinning. Razikale's gentle form of torment was extremely amusing to him.

Fenris tried to keep up, slightly flustered and obviously not very familiar with the handling of children. "The… the world is vast. Even though the Deep Roads are large, they're mostly the same since the darkspawn destroyed the thaigs. Above ground… there are many different cultures. You'll see humans and dwarves and elves… Qunari."

"What's a Qunari?"

Hawke whispered to Anders, "He's really not so bad with kids, you know."

Anders scoffed. "If you get past the bigotry and hatred he has for mages, sure. He's a right ray of sunshine."

"I was thinking… if we're going to be raising Razikale, we might need help."

"Help?" Anders asked, looking at him.

"Babysitters. For when we go elsewhere. And Fenris, he's…"

Anders frowned. "I… I suppose."

"He's not going to turn our child into a templar," Hawke insisted. "I'd be more worried about Carver doing that." Hawke suddenly grinned.

"What?"

"Just this. We're already having a conversation about raising our child."

Anders contemplated this. Their child. His child with Hawke. It was surreal. But he wasn't as enthusiastic as Hawke. Not because he didn't relish the prospect of raising a child with him. Quite the opposite. He wanted more than almost anything to have a family with the man he loved. But a child like Razikale would raise a lot of questions. Namely the horns and wings. How could they bring him out into public? How would they explain the sudden appearance of a child? Not just a baby, either. He supposed that Hawke would figure something out, but he wasn't exactly just another random citizen of Hightown. He was respected and somewhat well-known. The Fereldan refugee who made it big in Kirkwall. A sudden itching in his brain broke him of his reverie.

"Darkspawn," he said, taking staff in hand. He brought the end down, a purplish light appearing in a circle on the ground. "Perhaps… perhaps half a dozen."

Razikale dropped Fenris's hand and quickly ran behind Hawke, clinging to his leg. "I don't like them," he whispered.

Fenris spun his sword easily, gripping it and dropping to a fighting stance. "Which direction?"

"Straight ahead," Anders said. "Hawke, you should take him away. Fenris and I-"

Hawke scooped Razikale up and tucked him atop a large boulder. "Stay put, kiddo."

"Be careful, daddy!"

One of Hawke's palms crackled with lightning, the other filled with flame. "I always am."

So used to fighting with one another, when the darkspawn finally emerged from around a corner, they didn't hesitate. Anders concentrated on keeping Fenris up, applying a haste spell to his already quick movements. As loath as he was to offer any kind of compliment to the elf, he knew Hawke was right. Having a blade in the Deep Roads was non-negotiable. The lyrium markings flared as Fenris phased through the bulk, bringing his sword down from the inside while Hawke hurled fireballs full of crackling lightning energy.

It was over quickly with few injuries that Anders was able to heal easily. Razikale had watched the fight, wide-eyed and mouth slightly open. When Hawke reached up for him, the boy fairly jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly.

"That was _amazing_ ," he said reverently.

"It's astonishing," Anders said, amused, "how much like you he is."

Razikale wriggled out of Hawke's arms and stood in front of Fenris, looking up at him. "Can you do that again?"

"Er. What?" Fenris looked quickly to Hawke, then back down.

"The thing where you lit up!"

Hawke laughed. "Yes, Uncle Fenris. Can you do it again?"

Fenris scowled and slung his sword on his back. "We shouldn't dawdle. There are still several days to the surface."

"You're making him sad, Fenris," Hawke said, as Razikale began to pout.

The scowl deepened. Fenris turned on his heel and stalked off. But just as he rounded the counter, his markings flared, leaving behind a trail of white-blue luminescence.

"YAY!" Razikale exclaimed, clapping his hands before running off to catch up with him.

Anders shook his head.

"What?" Hawke asked.

"Between you and Fenris, he's going to be spoiled."

Hawke shrugged. "I don't mind. It means giving him all the things none of us grew up having."

Anders felt Hawke's fingerless leather glove against his own bare hand as he entwined their fingers, following after the other two. Hawke was right. And if Anders was going to help raise Razikale, he swore that he would work harder now more than ever to make sure their son would grow up knowing the familial love he'd been denied in the Circle.

"All right," he said resolutely.

"All right?"

Anders nodded. "We'll raise him together. And teach him proper values. And spoil him rotten."

Hawke squeezed his hand, and Anders felt at ease as they continued their journey.


	4. Chapter 4

"And then he brought his sword down in a huge arc, slicing the demon's head clean off!"

Razikale clapped enthusiastically, giggling. "And he saved the princess!"

Hawke nodded, finishing up his story. "Of course he did. He's the hero."

"Are you a hero?"

Anders held Razikale loosely in his lap as Hawke shrugged modestly. They were less than a day to the surface and settled down for their last night underground. A crackling fire kept the spiders at bay, and Fenris was on first watch, sitting at the mouth of the convenient alcove they'd found to set camp.

"Your father is a hero," Anders confirmed. "He fights for what's right, for equality for all people – elves and mages."

"Oh. Are elves and mages people?"

Hawke laughed, stretching out on the bedroll near the fire.

Anders gently shifted Razikale off his lap. "Yes they are."

"And they deserve equal rights, just like everyone!" Razikale said, crawling quickly to Hawke. He settled down and snuggled against him. For the past two nights, he'd done the same thing.

Anders, while he missed the feeling of Hawke's arms around him while they slept, was content to simply lie next to them. He did hope that Hawke didn't plan to let the boy sleep in their bed once they returned to Kirkwall though. As quickly as Razikale was growing on them all, Anders thought he would miss the passionate nights and mornings spent in Hawke's bed. What did being a parent mean for their sex life? It was something to be sorted out later.

Hawke hummed softly, stroking one of Razikale's wings, something they discovered seemed to calm him and put him to sleep. He'd spoke about his nightmares he had when he was slumbering, but assured them he didn't have them anymore. Anders wondered if it was Hawke's affect. When he fell asleep in his clinic, he inevitably had more nightmares than if he spent the evening at the estate. And with a sudden start, he realized that the archdemon he must have been having nightmares about was now a small boy in Hawke's arms. It was… interesting, to say the least. Perhaps the dreams would stop altogether now that Razikale was human, or as close to one as an Old God could likely be. But then, there was one more left if Fenris was to be believed. And Anders had to agree, if only begrudgingly, that the elf at least had superior knowledge on that subject.

Perhaps he could write to Nathaniel, who was still with the Wardens. And there was also King Alistair. While he sat on the Fereldan throne, he had been there when the last archdemon was slain. He'd also been a Grey Warden a lot longer than Anders and might have answers. The theory they'd formed about how Razikale came into being was sound, but that didn't give them all the answers. What would happen as he grew up? Would the darkspawn still be attracted to him? They didn't seem to be here in the Deep Roads now. Would they live to see the next Blight? Anders sincerely hoped not.

He fell into an almost restful slumber on Hawke's other side. However, he wasn't asleep long. Razikale had climbed over Hawke, who Anders swore could sleep through an earthquake, and settled next to him. Anders opened his eyes to see two bright, big silver ones staring up at him in the light of the fire.

"Hm?"

"I can remember my nightmares," Razikale whispered. "And that I had brothers. And people really liked us."

Anders frowned, letting him cuddle close, and stroked his wings. "The Old Gods were revered by ancient magisters."

"Mages."

"Magisters are mages, yes. But not all mages are magisters," Anders explained patiently.

"Ohh. I see."

Anders wanted to thank the Maker for that. It was a concept that was simple enough to grasp, yet Fenris still looked at him as if he were going to start slitting his wrists and calling upon demons any second before putting people in chains. He impulsively kissed Razikale's forehead.

"So the magisters revered me. What's that mean?"

Anders glanced at the still sleeping Hawke, wondering if he was going to be personally in charge of educating Razikale on the history of Thedas and mages in general. Not that he minded. "That means they prayed to you that you would help them, and loved you very much."

He knew that Hawke wouldn't appreciate it if he told Razikale the reality of it. Though he was no expert on Ancient Tevinter, it would likely scar the child for life if he mentioned blood magic and ritual sacrifices. More likely Razikale would appreciate a bucketful of candy and a new toy.

"Oh. Did you revere me? Because you're a mage. And so is daddy. I can feel it in him."

"I'm not that old," Anders teased. "I was raised to believe in Andraste and the Maker."

He wasn't sure where he stood on that faith now. It was difficult to believe in a Maker who'd abandoned his children, and the prophet who, while she freed slaves, set a precedence that would allow the Chantry to subjugate and brutalize an entire subset of people. Like Hawke had said, no matter what happened a thousand years ago, it was no reason to continue punishing mages today.

"The Maker was said to have created Thedas. And Andraste was his bride. She freed all the slaves."

"Oh. So there are no more slaves? What's a slave?"

Anders truly wished Hawke was still awake.

"My people," Fenris said, coming back to the alcove and sitting by the fire.

Razikale struggled a bit and sat up to look at Fenris. "You have slaves?"

Fenris scowled. "No. I was one. And there are many more in the Imperium."

"Fenris," Anders started.

"You're telling him about mages. You might as well not coddle the boy," Fenris said quietly. "The mages in the Tevinter Imperium now still keep slaves. They say it's the only place in Thedas where slavery is still legal, but it happens everywhere. Mostly elves like myself."

"And what do the slaves do?"

"Whatever their masters tell them."

Anders was surprised the remark seemed to hold no bitterness, just simple resigned fact. "Slavery is wrong. Just like locking mages in the Circles."

"It is not the same."

"It's close," Anders insisted. "To hear talk."

Fenris grunted, obviously not in the mood to argue. "You and Hawke have discussed what you're going to do with the child?"

"We're going to raise him as our own."

"Hm."

"What? I'm sure you've something to say, so just say it."

Fenris took a swing from his water skin and turned. "I think he's going to be very well off with you and Hawke as his parents."

Dumbstruck, Anders couldn't say anything as Fenris left. Razikale looked at Anders, reaching one hand up to push his jaw shut. Anders looked down at him, and Razikale grinned toothily.

"You looked like…" Razikale made a face, mouth and eyes wide.

"Just… surprised that your Uncle Fenris-" And Maker was that a weird thing to call him "-seems to be so accepting. He doesn't like mages much."

"You and Daddy must be special," Razikale claimed, and settled down between them once more.

Anders lay down as well, and Hawke shifted in his sleep, throwing one well-muscled arm over the both of them. Razikale yawned exaggeratedly and closed his eyes. Anders, knowing that Fenris would wake Hawke for his watch when it was time, fell into a surprisingly restful sleep.

-

The remainder of the trek was much shorter than they anticipated, and they were all quite relieved to break the surface. Razikale, who'd been sitting atop Hawke's shoulders, hands resting on his head, nearly fell off in his haste to get down. He seemed enthralled by everything, asking what things were, bringing them plants and bugs to identify. Hawke wasn't too concerned when he ran off, though Anders felt slightly nervous whenever he disappeared from eyesight.

"You practically begged me to move in with you. You're always checking up on Merrill. And for some reason, now you've lost your overprotectiveness right when it's most necessary," Anders said, slightly exasperated.

Hawke shrugged. "He's just playing. Children play. I got lost once in the forest for entire evening and my father barely noticed I was gone."

"That's… quite awful."

Hawke laughed. "Carver told him I wanted to sleep under the stars and I'd be back in the morning. It wasn't too far from the truth."

"You were lost-" Anders frowned as Razikale came crashing through underbrush, wings fluttering. "Everything all right?"

Razikale frowned, cheeks puffed out, looking slightly green. Anders knelt down, hand on his shoulder. Hawke called out to Fenris who was leading the way to stop a moment.

"Razi, are you all-" Anders started, but didn't finish.

Razikale vomited on the front of Anders' robes. Hawke doubled over, laughing. Anders scowled, taking out a handkerchief. He first wiped off Razikale's face and then blotted at his front.

"What made you sick?" Anders asked, glaring at Hawke who was still laughing.

"I ate a bug."

Hawke's laughter continued. "Oh… oh what kind of bug?"

Even Fenris was smirking a bit now.

"It had really colorful wings."

"A butterfly?" Anders asked, looking down at himself. The dark stain on his coat mingled well with the others, and he hoped Bodahn would at the very least, be able to get the smell out.

"I guess," Razikale said, shrugging. "It landed on my arm so I ate it up."

"Are… you hungry?" Anders asked. Finally he smacked Hawke in the leg. "Stop laughing."

Hawke snorted. "Bugs really aren't good to eat."

"Bugs are teeky," Razikale proclaimed.

Anders looked at Hawke first, who shrugged, then Fenris, who had an eyebrow raised, before turning back to Razikale. "Uh. Teeky?"

"You know," he said, swaying back and forth, gesturing with his hands. "Teeky!"

"…Gross?" Anders guessed.

"Sure!" Razikale grinned, but it faded. "Are you mad that I threw up the teeky butterfly all over you?"

Hawke turned away, covering more laughter.

Anders sighed and picked him up, handing him to Hawke. "No," he assured him, and brushed back a lock of his hair, poking one of his horns. "You couldn't help it."

The smile returned. "Papa, you're the best."

And if Anders had been mad, any lingering anger would have disappeared immediately at that proclamation. "Well. Thank you," he said, touched by the compliment. It was strange, he thought, how quickly his affection was growing.

_Maybe I can handle this parenting thing after all…_

Hawke turned him around and lifted him up once more, settling him on his shoulders. Razikale seemed to be quite pleased being up so high. As they moved out of the forest and down the mountain, Kirkwall came into view.

Fenris paused. "I've been thinking."

"Hope you didn't hurt yourself," Hawke said offhandedly before wincing. It was easy to fall into the trap of being sarcastic and joking as he did with most of their friends, but often forgot that Fenris was rather literal a lot of the time.

But Fenris either ignored it or wasn't offended. He set his pack down and withdrew a long cloak. "In order to move through the city, we'll need to cover him. At least until you can get to your estate. Perhaps if it was closer to All's Souls Day or Satinalia, we could simply pass it off as a costume."

Hawke and Anders watched as he withdrew a needle and thread. He worked quickly, and while the hemming wasn't the neatest, he'd sufficiently altered the cloak so that it would be manageable for a small boy. Hawke gently set him down, and Fenris wrapped it around him. With the hood up, Razikale looked like any other little boy. His horns were hidden by the overlarge hood, and because the cloak was bulky and obviously made for someone much larger, his wings appeared to be no more than billowy folds of cloth.

"That's… rather impressive," Hawke said, adjusting it a little.

Razikale flapped his arms, the sleeves still several inches too long for him. "It's like I'm all grown up!"

"Don't be in too much of a hurry to get there," Hawke said. "Being an adult is dull sometimes."

"You like it when it's dull," Anders noted.

"On the contrary, I'd much prefer fighting giant spiders than running errands for the viscount."

Razikale looked up, his face half-hidden by the hood. "Giant spiders?"

"You wouldn't like them," Hawke said knowingly. "They smell funny."

"Oh."

"Shall we move on then?" Fenris asked, shouldering his pack once more.

Hawke sighed and took Razikale's hand. The boy grabbed for Anders' and swung idly between them as they trekked toward the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Teeky' is a word that my girlfriend used when we were playing with one of her characters as a child. I, like my character, was confused. And her explanation was much like Razikale's. You know. Teeky.
> 
> All credit to her for the word. ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

Varric raised an eyebrow as he looked at the child sitting across from him. He'd received a message that Hawke had returned from the Deep Roads trip and wanted to see him. They arranged to meet in the evening for a meal, and Varric made his way up to Hightown. Now, sitting in the dining room of the Amell estate, he understood why Hawke hadn't come down to see him like he usually did.

"Well the horns are a bit different."

"And the wings. Don't forget those," Hawke said.

Razikale flapped them a few times. "I can't really fly anymore, but it's okay. Daddy says maybe they'll grow when I do."

"I bet. Hawke, can we…" Varric gestured to the door with a tilt of his head.

"Sure. Razi, eat your supper. Papa will come down in a minute to keep you company."

Razikale bounced in his chair, but did as he was told, spooning up some soup and slurping noisily. Hawke followed Varric out into the hall and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, and waited.

"I'm assuming he's not yours," Varric said at once.

Hawke sighed. "We found him in the Deep Roads. It's a bit of a story. We have theories, pretty sound ones, on who he is." Hawke briefly relayed the argument, the explosion, and Razikale's appearance. "So… Anders and I decided we're going to raise him as our own."

"Now Hawke. I'm usually all for your crazy ideas-"

"I think I already know what you're going to say," Hawke sighed. "There's no other option, Varric."

"There are plenty of options," Varric pointed out. "That's why they're called options."

"Don't you think I've thought this through?"

Varric sighed, hands on his hips and looked up at Hawke. He knew when Hawke made up his mind and got stuck on an idea there was no making him change his mind. "All right. I'll bite. Why did you invite me here?"

"Because eventually everyone's going to start talking about how I happen to have a kid now. I need rumors spread. Please," he added.

"Right. Come up with rumors as to why you have a pint-sized human version of an archdemon running around. Hawke, did you stop to think that – no, wait," Varric said, waving his hands. "You didn't stop to think. That's apparent enough."

"Think about what?" Anders asked, coming around the corner. "Hello, Varric."

"Blondie."

Hawke took Anders around the waist and kissed him softly. "Just trying to convince Varric to give us a hand with the subversive part of raising Razi. It's not going to be easy."

"I was thinking about that," Anders said, leaning against him, smiling a little as Hawke's hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing gently. "Perhaps Sandal knows an enchantment, something to hide the horns. Or a better sewn cloak."

"I'll ask him in the morning," Hawke agreed. "And hit the market tomorrow. Maybe Fenris can come by to watch-"

"I'll stay home," Anders said. "It's not that I don't want Fenris around him-"

"But it is," Hawke said with a tired smile.

"He's being very rational," Anders said somewhat defensively. "At any rate, if I have to, I'll take him down to the clinic and keep him behind the privacy screen."

"Uh," said Varric, cutting in. "You two ever raised a kid? They don't exactly sit quietly and let you go about your business."

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, there was a loud bang followed by a cry from inside the dining room. Hawke and Anders moved quickly, Varric following. Razikale was lying on the floor, his chair tipped over backward, soup bowl upturned and splattered all over him. He looked at them with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"I – spilled – my –sooooup!" he howled. "I didn't mean to!"

"Are you hurt?" Anders asked, kneeling immediately, helping him sit up. He pulled the boy's shirt away from his skin, checking for burns.

Razikale sniffled and shook his head, tiny fists rubbing at his eyes. "No, but I'm still hungry!"

"We'll get you some more food," Hawke promised, smoothing back his hair. He kissed his forehead and picked him up as Anders righted the chair. "How did you spill it all over yourself?" he asked, settling Razikale on the table. "Arms up. There you go." He peeled the shirt off and wiped up the remaining soup from his face with it.

"I wanted to make it hotter," he said, snuffing again. "So I tried to do what you and Papa do. You know. Woosh!" His flailed his arms in a casting motion.

Both Hawke and Anders had to leap out of the way as a fireball flew from Razikale's fingertips and hit the wall. Immediately Anders countered it with a bit of ice before it caught on the drapes. Varric, watching from the doorway, raised an eyebrow as Anders and Hawke exchanged looks.

"Like that," Razikale said, as if that explained it. "But I messed it all up." He pouted.

"No, you just need practice," Hawke assured him. "Stay with Papa. He'll get you another bowl and I'll see what I can do about a shirt for you. Or get this cleaned."

"So I didn't mess it up?"

"No, sweetheart," Hawke said, the affection coming easily as he pressed a kiss to the top of Razikale's head.

He looked at Anders. "I'll be right back."

Anders nodded and Hawke gestured, following Varric from the room once more. They walked down to the servants' wing, into the laundry room where Hawke set to washing the shirt.

"An Old God, a child, and a mage." Varric let out a whistle. "Hawke, you're impressive, there's no doubting that, but even you have to admit when you're in over your head."

"And what would you have me do?" Hawke asked, a slightly annoyed edge to his tone. "Give him to Meredith? Gift-wrap him for the templars, say 'Hey, I found a mage in the Deep Roads and oh, by the way, he's an Old God too'?"

Varric shook his head. "Look, maybe Kirkwall isn't the safest place to raise him."

Hawke sighed, scrubbing the shirt along the washboard. "Anders won't leave. He's still convinced he can make the Grand Cleric change her mind. That she'll listen to reason about Meredith's methods." He didn't mention the promise he made to Anders that they would search the Gallows for evidence of Alrik's Tranquil Solution. Hawke had wanted to find proof first before they brought it before Elthina. They were supposed to have gone tonight, but Razikale's appearance threw a wrench into the works.

"You… could leave him here. For the time being!" Varric added quickly as Hawke glared at him. "Head to somewhere safer. Somewhere without a Circle. Tantervale?"

Hawke shook his head. "I'm not leaving Anders. It's out of the question."

"Maker, you've got it bad," Varric muttered. "All right. I'll see what I can do. When the word starts getting around, I'll make sure people stay as far away as possible from the truth. Not that the truth is all that believable. What are you going to do?"

Hawke rinsed the shirt out and hung it up, his palms radiating heat to dry the cloth a bit more quickly. "In the morning, send Bodahn out to buy a few outfits and shoes for Razi. Then probably send word out for Merrill to come here to take a look at him. Maybe head up Sundermount if her clan's still there. Her Keeper might know what to do. Or… know how to contact Flemeth."

"Getting involved with that witch…"

"If you have any better ideas that don't involve leaving Anders or putting the boy up for adoption, I'm all ears."

Varric sighed. He doubted Hawke would listen to him even if he did have an alternative idea. "Just don't get yourself killed. I sort of like having you around."

"Stop, Varric. You'll make me blush," Hawke said with a grin.

He shook out the shirt and they returned to the dining room where Razikale clapped happily. He put his arms in the air and Hawke redressed him.

"We'll have to start his training tomorrow," Hawke said, ruffling Razikale's hair. "You're going to learn how to control that magic."

"Thank you!" Razikale said, and slurped the rest of his soup. He looked at Varric. "So you're my uncle too? I have another uncle, but he's not here right now. He doesn't live with us. Do you live with us too? Why are you so short?"

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose, but Hawke merely grinned.

"I'm a dwarf," Varric said easily, taking the question in stride. "Why are you so short?"

Razikale grinned. "Because I'm a kid! Are dwarves kids?"

"No," Anders said patiently. "And it's rude to ask people why they're short."

"He didn't mean anything by it, Blondie," Varric said. "Besides, I've gotten worse from people who actually mean insult. Look, I'm going to get out of here, talk to some people, see what I can do in order to make this a bit easier on all of you."

Anders smiled at him. "Thank you, Varric. It means a lot to us."

"I'll walk you out," Hawke offered.

Varric waved a hand. "I know where the door is." He did stop in the doorway of the dining room, however, turned, and looked at them once more. "…You really do make a cute family though," he said, before disappearing down the hallway.

Razikale grinned up at Hawke and Anders who were on either side of him. "We're a cute family!"

Hawke squeezed his shoulder gently, then looked to Anders. "Well. You two are cute. I don't know about me so much."

Anders, despite himself, was grinning a bit nervously. It would be a long and difficult road, but they would be there for one another. He would protect his family, no matter the cost.


	6. Chapter 6

Varric made good on his promise. Over the next several weeks, rumors flew among the Hightown nobles. Garrett Hawke, son of the late Leandra Amell, had adopted a child and was raising him as his own with an apostate refugee. The denizens of Lowtown and the Undercity seemed to care less about that, and more about what this meant for their healer, but Anders was at the clinic daily. Some days he brought Razikale down to teach him creation magic, which he seemed to be quite adept in. Of course, Hawke insisted he learn the basics of elemental magic as well, and Razikale was only too happy to spend time with either of them, asking a bevy of questions that often spilled from his mouth without thought or waiting for an answer.

Merrill, upon seeing Razikale, proclaimed him the cutest little archdemon she'd ever seen. After much cooing, she agreed to see them up Sundermount. Anders appreciated it, considering how her clan felt about her, and the anxiety it brought Merrill to have to see them again. Unfortunately Keeper Marethari had no more answers for them, but welcomed them to stay for the night. Razikale lay snuggled between Anders and Hawke, his favorite place to be. On occasion they would wake in the mornings to find that he had slipped into their room and was sleeping soundly in their bed.

They trekked back to Kirkwall, Razikale wearing his specially made hooded cloak that covered his horns and wings, enchanted to better hide them, thanks to Sandal, who really seemed to like Razikale. At first, Hawke wasn't sure how Bodahn would react, but he seemed to enjoy Razikale's presence, treating him just the same as he did Sandal and calling him, 'The Little Master.' Tired, feeling as though they'd gotten no further in figuring out what to do next aside from raising him as their own, they entered the estate late in the evening, Hawke holding a sleeping Razikale.

"You are spoiling him," Anders noted, as they made their way down the hall toward Razikale's room.

"He was tired. Besides, he's light."

"Indeed," said a voice from in the room.

Anders immediately withdrew his staff, defenses up. "Who's there?"

Hawke put out an arm. "Wait." He knew that laugh. A woman's laugh. He lit the room, throwing a fireball at the fireplace and his suspicions were confirmed.

Flemeth sat at the end of Razikale's bed, wearing a simple brown dress, her hair elegantly knotted at the back of her neck. She smiled, her yellow cat-like eyes dancing in the firelight. "Welcome home. Don't you three make a horribly domestic sight?"

"Flemeth," Hawke breathed, stepping in, Anders following warily. "We were looking for you."

"I heard the whispers on the wind. So, you've found an Old God, have you?"

"Are you asking or telling?" Hawke asked, moving around the bed to place Razikale in it. He removed his shoes and tucked him in.

"You already know the truth," she said, sounding impressed. "But the question now is why would you seek me? For confirmation?"

"Not exactly," Anders said, leaning against the wall, his staff next to him. He crossed his arms. "What's going to happen to him when he grows up?"

Flemeth stood, crossing her arms easily over her stomach. "That would involve knowing the future. And the future is never set in stone."

"I mean is he going to revert back. Or become an archdemon? What if a darkspawn touches him? Will he become corrupted?" Anders could take care of any human health-related issues, but he was worried. What would happen if Razikale reached puberty and he suddenly became a tainted Old God hell-bent on destroying the world?

Flemeth hummed a bit. "No. He's human. Well, he's a mage with an unusual condition. Such as yourself," she noted.

Anders bristled. He disliked that Flemeth was able to sense Justice within him. "But he won't… change."

"No," Flemeth assured them. "But children are volatile," she added wryly. "I should know."

"Your daughter," Hawke said, remembering.

Flemeth chuckled. "Indeed. Well." She looked over at Razikale. "I can't say I envy you. Good luck."

"Wait," Hawke said, approaching. "That's it?"

She raised a thin eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "And what else would you have me say?"

"Any advice would be helpful," Hawke snapped. "You're the mystical one."

"And so I am," she said, stopping in the doorway in order to add, "Congratulations on becoming parents."

Hawke stepped forward to protest, but she left, and when he gained the hallway, she was gone. "Bloody useless," he muttered.

Anders took him around the waist and pulled him close. "She told us enough. He'll remain human. As human as he is. We just need to be careful that no one finds out what he really is."

Hawke sighed, pressing his forehead to Anders'. "We will. No one will hurt him. I swear to the Maker."

Smiling, Anders pulled him from the room, toward their bedroom. Hawke grinned broadly as he watched Anders undress, a knowing look in his eye. Without much finesse, he followed, shirt and pants hitting the floor, smallclothes following. Naked now, Anders pulled him backward onto the bed, and Hawke happily climbed over top of him, kissing him soundly. Anders moaned softly into the kiss, fingertips running over Hawke's well-muscled back. He gasped when Hawke rolled his hips forward, legs spreading a bit.

"It's been awhile," Hawke noted, kissing his jaw, nuzzling his neck. "I love you."

Anders closed his eyes, letting those three words wash over him. They were terrifying to him, even now, but he knew Hawke wouldn't lie to him. "I love you, too," he whispered, barely audible.

Hawke smiled against his shoulder. "One day you're going to shout it from the rooftops. The world will change and people like us won't be afraid of being torn apart."

Anders laughed shakily. "I thought that was my line."

Hawke kissed his chin before moving down, placing soft little kisses as he went. "Not if you let me help you."

Anders couldn't argue because in the next second Hawke's mouth was doing amazing things to him. He gripped the covers, fabric twisting in his fists as little breathy moans escaped his lips. A subtle vibration that slowly intensified and Anders nearly melted into the mattress. He knew teaching Hawke the electricity trick was perhaps one of the smartest things he'd ever done. It wasn't long before he was begging, pleading with Hawke to let him come, and only a few more moments before he was, hips lifting off the bed as Hawke finished him.

Slightly sweaty, Anders lay panting, the back of one wrist covering his eyes. He felt Hawke's warm lips, his scratchy beard as they kissed lazily, and he opened his eyes to look at him. "I love you."

Hawke grinned. "Good." He pressed his hips forward, erection brushing Anders' thigh. "So…"

Anders laughed, pushing him back to the bed and slid down to return the favor. Hawke's hands were in his hair, pushing it back to watch him. Anders smirked, eyes on Hawke as he pleasured him. He knew how much he enjoyed watching this, though Hawke's ego definitely didn't need the boost. Regardless, he never minded sex with Hawke, and it _had_ been a while. In the moments following Hawke's completion, there was a knock on the door. Hawke laughed as Anders crawled up to him, collapsing in his arms.

"At least he waited until we were done," Hawke muttered, pulling the blankets up over both of them.

"Daddy? Papa?"

"Come in, sweetheart," Anders called, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing Hawke quickly. He grabbed up their smalls from the floor, tossing Hawke's at him as Razikale raced in.

Anders moved aside as the boy snuggled down between them.

"Were you using magic?" Razikale said somewhat accusatorially. "I can sense it. I know when there's magic around. You shouldn't do magic without me. I want to learn too!"

Anders looked over at Hawke, who smirked. He sighed. "We'll teach you all the important magic that you need to know. I promise."

"Teach me something now?"

"What do you say when you want something?" Anders asked gently.

Razikale hummed a bit, wriggling in bed. "Please!" he declared finally.

"Daddy, teach him something," Anders said, grinning.

Hawke sighed good-naturedly and lifted a hand. A ball of light ignited, and Razikale touched it, eyes widening as he felt the energy in his palm, crackling. Anders watched, lying on his side, head propped on his hand. He reached out as well, touching Hawke's fingertips. The ball of light sparked, surging through the three of them, feeling warm and inviting, like sinking into a hot bath. Razikale grinned and laughed.

"What is it?"

"It'll manifest into whatever I want. Lightning. Fire. Ice. This is the start of magic. Your Papa can turn it into healing magic. He's very talented."

Anders tried not to blush at the compliment.

Razikale looked at him. "You're the best healer ever, right, Papa?"

"Well, I-"

"Of course he is," Hawke said at once. "And he'll teach you everything he knows. And when you get older, you'll be the most powerful mage that ever lived."

"And I'll help free all the mages, right?" Razikale said, looking at him. "I can help you and Papa, can't I?"

Hawke looked to Anders, dropping his hand, magic dispersing. Razikale looked at Anders.

"Of course," Anders said, pulling him into a hug, kissing him between the horns.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?"

"Are you still tired?" Hawke asked. "You slept almost all the way down the mountain."

Razikale made a face at him. "Daddy! I am a growing boy. I need my sleep."

Anders laughed. "Yes, Daddy. He needs his sleep."

Hawke smirked. "Of course you can. But just for tonight."

"Yay!"

Anders grinned as they settled down together. Hawke, he knew, would say that every time Razikale jumped into their bed. And the funny thing was, he found he didn't mind. There would be other nights to be alone together. And if Hawke was serious about this, they would be together, the three of them, for a long, long time.


	7. Epilogue

_Seven Years Later…_

"It looks like you, Pops."

Anders frowned, looking at the stone statue that was carved to look like him. He stood atop a block, one knee bent as he looked to the horizon, staff in hand. The town was small, on the edge of the Nevarran border to Tevinter. Anders hated traveling in Tevinter, but it was the one place they could find a moment's rest. They returned every year, their fellow mages giving them quarter, the templars turning their heads. He hated it, hated the blood magic and the corruption. But it was the only place in Thedas where they were safe, where they could regroup. And Solas was far enough away from any other major city that they could come and go without drawing unwanted attention. For it wasn't just Anders, but Hawke – The Champion of Kirkwall – and their odd son with his horns like a Qunari that the Chantry wanted. All three of them suspect in the destruction of the Kirkwall chantry.

Anders tried to get them to leave, to attempt to live a normal life, but Hawke was as much a fugitive now as he was. And Razikale, though he'd grown into his magic and was formidable in his own right, would sooner die than leave their side. He'd gotten very tall, his wings growing nearly as big as himself. The enchanted cloak helped to hide them, and most people who glimpsed his horns thought him Qunari. After all, not many people had seen a Qunari and knew only that they had horns, and it was as good an excuse as any.

"I'm not sure how I feel about being revered."

"You're like Andraste."

Anders shook his head. "I don't want to be a martyr for a religion. I wouldn't want to be responsible for some form of racism or bigotry in a thousand years, my words twisted to suit whatever the leaders of my church felt was right."

"But you had Varric publish your manifesto."

"Even things written in ink can be twisted. Words interpreted wrongly."

Hawke came jogging up, hood pulled low. "The house is ready. I… got the confirmation about Dairsmuid," he said, frowning.

Razikale winced, looking away. Anders put a hand on his shoulder, then pulled him close.

"They truly annulled it then?" Anders asked quietly.

Hawke nodded. "I want to head to Antiva when we can. Any survivors would go there. We can gather allies."

"All right," Anders agreed, hugging Razikale tightly, kissing his forehead. "Come on. A proper wash and a hot meal. Things will… hopefully look better in the morning."

"At least we're together," Hawke said, wrapping an arm around Razikale, pulling him into a hug.

"If… if my powers ever manifest," Razikale said quietly, "the powers I _know_ I have-"

"Razi," Anders said gently. "We have allies. We have options. Destruction and death, that's the last thing anyone needs more of. Understand?"

Razikale looked at Hawke, about to protest.

"Listen to your father," Hawke said, using the tone that meant he was serious.

Razikale sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Come on," Hawke said, pulling them both down the path. "Home awaits."

Anders took one last look at the statue of himself, following them toward the house. "The least they could've done is given me a cat," he muttered.

He would see the war to its bitter end, even if it meant fighting templars toe to toe again. They would gather more allies, alert the ones they were already in touch with when needed, and all the mages in Thedas would see themselves free from oppression. And they would do it together, the three of them, as a family.


End file.
